Make a move on me
by h-pw
Summary: Quinn is quickly realising that she might, maybe, like Rachel, and when they're alone in the kitchen together at a Glee gathering, like magnets, they seem to be drawn together. Faberry winter week 2013, day 4; caught, this is me continuing to back fill the prompts I missed.
1. Make a move on me

**A/N**: _I had quite a few ideas for the caught prompt, I even started writing one of them, but then I remembered I had this, which was originally a chapter for a story I started which was taken down (naughty me). Anyway a little reworking and here we go : -)_

_Oh and FYI, I had a song in mind for this chapter, 'Make a move on me' by Joey Negro, it's a oldish dance track (I say ish because it's actually only about 7/8 years old but I have enough awareness that I'm also oldish so people probably won't have heard it)._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything and I mean no offence.

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><p><strong>Make a move on me<strong>

Another Glee gathering; and on a Friday night you should be at one of the inevitable and tedious football team house parties, or even at home trying to make peace with what is left of your family but instead you're here, in Santana's house, hiding away in the kitchen, the sound of your Glee teammates singing and dancing filtering down from upstairs. Brittany is in the kitchen with you, a family bag of skittles in front of her as she keeps throwing the candy up in the air and catching it in her mouth, but she has thankfully sensed that you are wanting some space and are a bit lost in your own head right now. You've spent a lot of time in your head recently.

At the last Glee gathering Rachel had reached out, literally, and for a few short minutes as she'd taken your hand and seemingly sung those lines to you, you'd let your walls down that little bit and relaxed. Afterwards everything had snapped back to how it had been, like magnets repelling each other, but then the next moment you can't help but be drawn together, are desperate to be closer, and since those few moments of closeness all you've been able to do is analyse them over and over. Thinking about it all is like some kind of emotional rollercoaster, the feel of Rachel's hand in yours, the ease and fluidity of your movements together. A happy excitement runs through you at the thoughts and then a part of your brain kicks in and comprehends the situation and you feel sick because this was all wrong and not supposed to be how you felt?

Brittany had walked in on one of these internal moments. You're always the last to leave the locker room after Cheerios practice, and it's become like your thinking space, somewhere where you can let your thoughts run wild, and that was how Brittany had found you; sat on one of the benches, elbows on knees, head in your hands, freaking out. You'd heard your name spoken and looking up into the taller blondes worried face it was like everything just broke. Brittany had simply sat beside you, wrapping her arms around you as you'd cried.

Between hiccups for breath and odd sobs you told her everything and she'd just listened, keeping you in a tight hug, occasionally running a calming hand through your hair.

"What am I going to do?"

"You should do what makes you happy Q."

You can't stop the exasperated sigh that comes out as you squeezed your eyes tightly closed, trying to alleviate some of the dry soreness in them.

"It's not that simple Britt-"

"Quinn. I know I'm not as smart as you but just be honest with me and think about all the stuff you've done because you thought it's what you should do or what people expected of you."

Your brain fills with thoughts and images at the other girl's words before you give a small nod for Brittany to continue.

"And how did it all turn out? How much of it made you happy or even made other people happy?"

The thoughts in your head start leaping out at you; how you slept with Puck because you were trying so hard to be so perfect and as a result of that you made yourself weak, how lying to Finn to maintain the façade and spare his feelings at you cheating on him had actually ended up hurting him more, how despite excelling academically, socially and in all aspects of high school life and being a good Christian daughter your parents had disowned you at the first disappointment and opportunity. You sigh heavily as your brain works its way through every little thought and action.

"I can't imagine how exhausting it must be, people don't expect a lot from me, but you let everyone expect as much as they can, and then you had Beth."

Brittany pauses and you sense the anticipation in her as she hugs you that little bit tighter, worried you'll run or lash out.

"When you were pregnant with her you lost like everything Q, and oddly it looked like you were happier, you were just you, and now working to get it all back seems to have just made you sad again."

Silence falls over you both for a minute and you can feel the fresh tears start to make their way down your cheeks.

"I liked pregnant Quinn. I liked seeing my friend happy. I liked eating bacon burgers at 3am. It's all I want and expect from you is to be yourself and be happy."

Brittany's words are like lovingly placed stabs at your heart and slaps across your brain, you can hear the truth and honesty in them, and it just make you cry harder into the other girl's shoulder as she places a kiss to the top of your head.

"I like you helping me with American Lit class as well but if you need to just focus on being happy then that's ok."

You can't help but splutter out a laugh and wrapped your own arms around Brittany's torso, hugging her back.

"I think I can try and do both Britt."

"**I think I'm blind!**" the exclamation breaks through your musings and thoughts of the past as you come back to the moment, Santana's kitchen, skittles, Brittany and a dramatic Rachel Berry.

"Noah has just done the moonwalk and Mike is trying to teach Finn the caterpillar."

"Finns a caterpillar?" Brittany questions.

"More like a beached whale." Rachel retorts as she walks more fully into the kitchen and you choke for a moment on the skittle you've just put in your mouth as the three of you share a laugh.

Brittany takes up her game from earlier, picking a green skittle out the bag throwing it up and catching it in her mouth. Pulling out a red skittle she turns to you throwing it in your direction and you copy Brittany, catching it with practiced ease in your mouth. Rachel chuckles at your antics as she reaches across the kitchen island you're all stood around to pull the bag of skittles towards her. Her eyes scan the back of the packet as she picks one out, orange, and throws it over the island in Brittanys direction. It's a bit off target but Brittany still catches it and giggles before opening her mouth prompting Rachel to pick another skittle out the bag, red. As Rachel releases it you follow the piece of candy through the air, lunging around the island and jumping onto the taller girls back preventing her from catching the skittle as you snap your own mouth around it, a satisfied smile on your face at your success.

"Quinn!" Rachel chastises.

"Red are my favourite." Is your sheepish response, still being held up by a giggling Brittany, who comes to your defence.

"Quinn always has the red ones but it's ok cos I get all the green ones."

"Eugh, green is just wrong Britt." You joke as she places you back down.

"Oh my god, I love this song!" And with that Brittany is gone from the kitchen. You can't help but let out a little laugh and a roll of your eyes at the random spontaneity and carefree blonde before looking across the island to the brunette at the other end meeting her eyes.

"Maybe Britt will have more luck teaching Finn to dance."

"Brittany is an exceptional dancer but I doubt any amount of talent and patience will teach that boy basic rhythm and movement."

"Rachel Barbara Berry!"

"I'm sorry but I'm the one that has to dance with him all the time and I swear I've never been so bruised in all my life, one day I'll be the one with something broken."

You laugh at the truth of the statement, Finn is really an awful dancer, a comfortable silence and moment falls over the two of you as you reach across the island to pick out a red skittle.

"I can think of other people I'd rather dance with."

And like that your comfortable moment is shattered. You pause keeping your eyes fixed on the skittles bag in front of you, the tone is unmistakably flirty, and you daren't look at the other girl. What if you're wrong? No, that was definitely a flirty tone, but maybe she doesn't mean you. The music from upstairs becomes clearer in the silence and you recognise it as one of Brittany's work out songs, it had come on while you'd been running together in the gym the other week and she'd shared that TMI story. Now was really not the time to be thinking about that, but you're looking for distractions, torn between wanting to press this moment with Rachel but also wanting to run away from it.

You gaze is intent and fixed on the skittles bag, but it feels like the song is goading you, _c'mon make a move on me c'mon make a move on me_, and you find yourself slowly moving around the edge of the island to Rachels left, damn magnets.

"I thought Finn was your leading man?"

"I can think of people I would be more compatible and inclined towards."

Your pulse is so loud in your ears that you almost don't hear the reply, but you register out the corner of your eye Rachel moving towards the island corner between you. The increasing proximity prompts you to finally look up and she's turned to fully face you, looking intently back at you there's no doubt she's flirting with you as you stare at each other.

"Dance with me?"

The words are out of your mouth before you can think and you're not really sure if you're talking physically or metaphorically, was there a metaphorical meaning to the whole 'dance' thing? But you see your hand reach out and grasp Rachel's forearm closest to you, and pull her towards you so there's no long a counter edge between you.

Rachel's free arm moves and you feel her hand come to rest on your hip. You're face-to-face now but there's still some space between your bodies and your eyes meander down the gap to Rachel's hips as she starts to slowly sway them to the music. You're transfixed by the movement until you feel her hand squeeze your hip and her gently press for you to move with her.

You're still watching her hip movements as you slowly begin to match them and as you find the rhythm you run your hand up Rachel's forearm, bringing your arm to rest lazily over her shoulder. The tension that is rising between the two of you is palpable and it spikes with a quick half turn from Rachel so her back is suddenly, and so nearly, against your front.

Neither of you has missed a beat, hips still swaying together in time, as the gap between you closes a fraction more. Rachel rolls and dips her hips, her ass so close to grinding into you that you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip to hold back a whimper at the near sensation. Wait, you just heard a whimper, fuck that was you, did Rachel hear it?

Rachel loosely clasps the hand you still have draped over her shoulder, while her other hand finds its way to you thigh, just above your knee. Any thought of embarrassment or fleeing leaves you and you feel your own free hand move into action, gripping and squeezing Rachel's hip before sliding around to feel the lightly defined stomach you know is under that shirt. As your hand moves under the fabric you splay it to touch the maximum amount of skin, Rachel gasps lightly and lets her head drop back onto your shoulder. The feel of hot skin and the increasing proximity is intoxicating and you unabashedly bury your nose into dark locks assaulting your senses further with Rachel Berry.

You feel her shoulder press further into you as she relaxes. You're still moving together, but you vaguely register that it seems to be some rhythm and beat of your own making now rather than the bass and beat of the music. The space between you is almost non-existent, a small shuffle or press of your hand and Rachel's back will be flush against you. Resisting that particular temptation you instead give in to the sensory temptation of tasting the bare skin in front of you. With parted lips you follow the curve of her ear, trailing hot breaths down to exposed and bare neck and you allow your tongue to flick out briefly. Rachel's grip on your thigh tightens and she arches her head back into your shoulder further, giving you greater access. You take it, running your lips lightly down the length of the girl's neck.

As you reach the curved point where neck and shoulder meet you feel the temptation to bite down but refrain, instead placing light kisses along the small area of exposed skin. You feel a moan vibrate under your mouth more than hear it and let a self-satisfied smile cross your lips. Moving your mouth back up Rachel's neck to her earlobe, you lightly bite down, relishing the effect you're having upon her as your ears pick up her shallow breaths. But then she closes that remaining distance between you, as she grinds her ass against you, and you feel it throughout your whole body. A second roll pulls a low growl out of you as you bite down on her neck, feeling the need to both anchor yourself in some way but also to express and release the feelings and desire that are running through you.

Her hand is moving up from your thigh, trailing its way quickly up to the back of your head, where her fingers tangle into your hair and hold you in place against her neck. You tighten your arm across her stomach as you begin to suck where you've bitten, knowing there'll be a deep mark there now. You feel lost in all the sensations, the movement of your bodies, the nails on your scalp, the sound of her increasingly erratic pants, the heat and smell of Rachel's skin. You're struggling to recall how you got into this position, how it seemingly happened so fast, but you can't find it in yourself to care right now, every part of you is humming with the desire to immerse yourself more in the girl pressed against you, as she keeps swaying those delicious hips.

"What. the. actual. fuck."

You hear the words spoken, punctuated, as something connects with your head and clatters to the floor, the two of you jumping apart at the intrusion. As you rub the back of your head you register a plastic cup on the floor nearby before looking at Santana stood in the doorway arms folded with that annoying smirk on her face.

"No one fucks in my kitchen but me. Q you're needed upstairs, now." With that she turns and leaves.

You're so disorientated, your head feels hazy and you're not quite sure what's just occurred or going on. You're not sure if you can look at Rachel, which seems stupid given what was happening just a moment ago, but you feel overwhelmed and need a minute to just feel like you're back in reality.

Turning to the island you grip the counter edge, staring intently at it, taking a deep breath as things slowly start to come back into focus. One of Rachel's hands comes into your field of vision and she gently rests it atop yours. The simple touch is relaxing and elating and you're thankful for the contact and gesture, that she's not pressing, and is letting you have your moment.

"**Q, NOW!"**

You take another deep breath and glance up at Rachel, trying to lighten the moment as you roll your eyes at the Latina's interruption and give Rachel a reassuring little smile. She smiles back and you turn your hand over in hers clasping your hands together, giving it a little squeeze before releasing it and moving to the doorway out of the kitchen towards Santana's bellow.

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><p><strong>AN**_**:**__ Reviews and comments are like dog treats, reward or discipline me . . . that sounds a bit wrong but you get the analogy._


	2. Parachute

**A/N**: _Ok so I had a great response to this, thank you all so much for comments, follows, favourites, and tummy scratch. As I'd mentioned this had come from a previous idea that got taken down so I went through a few of the chapters I had and re-worked/edited/wrote bits to bring you all a second chapter from Rachel's perspective._

_I should mention I am quite medicated up at the moment trying to get rid of a cold so if there are any errors I did my best._

**Disclaimer**: As always I don't own anything and I'm not looking to offend anyone I'm just having some fun.

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><p><strong>Parachute<strong>

Rachel Barbra Berry is pissed off.

It's not that you're naïve, you'd known a public declaration to Quinn was a risk and might not work out, but afterwards once Coach Sylvester had mega-phone insulted you off her field, Quinn had run after you, grabbed you in the School parking lot and kissed you. It wasn't a huge leap in logic to think everything had gone well and they could drive off into the sunset, roll credits, and live happily ever after, was it? I mean the fact that the Cheerios had helped you, surely this was the start of a new beginning.

Ok perhaps on reflection it had all been a little naïve, because there was no driving off into the sunset, Quinn had kissed you and then hurriedly left and the next day had been like any other. Quinn had given you that cold HBIC stare you'd come to know so well in junior year as you'd walked down the hallway and then _bang_ a slushie facial from one of the football team along with a call of 'lesbo' from one of the accompanying Cheerios. That was new at least.

In fact the only thing that had changed in the last two weeks was 'RuPaul' and 'manhands' had been replaced with 'lesbo', 'dyke' and other variations. Something that you are oddly thankful for, because after everything that had happened with Kurt a change in name calling wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. So yeah, maybe you are naïve, publically declaring her love for a girl at school and not thinking of the potential consequences equals naïve.

But ok it's not really that naïve because it's not like the two of you haven't been leading up to this. There's been all these moments and sort of dates where you just connect and it's . . . agh it's electrifying and amazing and confusingly wonderful and magical, this plethora of emotions that makes you want to sing but also you'd happily be silent and content forever if you just had those arms around you or could hold Quinn's hand. It's like there's always been this two-sidedness to you and Quinn because regardless of how much she has tormented you, you have always gravitated towards her, no matter how much you think you hate each other you've always helped each other and when you think about it isn't that the set up for most musicals? The lead characters start out hating each other before falling madly and impossibly in love, look at Grease, look at West Side Story, Seven brides for seven brothers, even Wicked. No wonder you'd thought declaring your growing love for the girl via the medium of a public musical number had seemed like a good idea.

You also just needed more. No interaction between the two of you has been the same since Santana's party, the memory of your proximity, the feel of Quinn's hands and lips, you physically re-live it every time you are even just in the same room as the blonde and you know the other girl feels the same because as self-involved as people think you are, you are observant and aware, and you've seen the lingering looks and blushes.

The two of you have been spending more time together but it's all just too slow and you know you shouldn't push, that this must be difficult for Quinn, but she should understand, she should know that being with Rachel Berry means impulsive grand gestures, that you are an intense and dramatic soul who does not compromise who she is to suit others, while Quinn so easily switches and moulds to what people expect. It's frustrating and like you're constantly taking steps and leaps back and forth because you have seen and experienced how gentle and passionate Quinn can be in private, how genuinely happy and adorably nerdy, but then it's unsettling because in an instant she is back into that HBIC role and you're back at arm's length and there's nothing, no emotion.

That's what has you so pissed off, or rather who. Quinn. Two weeks and nothing. She's just ignored you; in the halls, in class, in Glee, your calls have gone unanswered, answerphone messages ignored, no responses to your texts. You had even gone round to Quinn's house, you'd been a regular to the Fabray residence before Quinn started ignoring you, and when Judy answers the door she gives you a sympathetic look, the woman loves you although she has no idea about the true intentions you have towards her daughter.

"Give her time Rachel. You know how stubborn she can be, I'm sure you girls will sort it out."

You have given her time and now you'd had enough. The slushie this morning and accompanying insult had been the last straw, you've reached your limit, and now wanting answers you are storming down the halls of McKinley in a red haze searching for Quinn.

It's probably for the best that when you do find the other girl she is walking alone to class, although in your current state of anger the presence of other people would have made no difference. As you catch up with the blonde you reach out and grab her wrist, spinning her round roughly.

"What the he-"

"_**You**_ . . ." You're so angry but damn you haven't thought this through, haven't thought about what you would actually say when you found Quinn and now you are just staring at her, opening and closing your mouth. You see her look around and move to the side of the hallway, feeling a pull on your arm you realise you are still gripping Quinn's wrist and are being led by that grip through a nearby door. Once inside Quinn pulls her wrist away and closes the door, and you can see that you are in the upper level of the auditorium.

"Rachel."

You snap your eyes shut at her tone, oh god don't say anything else just say my name and leave it at that, as the thought of Quinn's rejection hits you and you squeeze your eyes more firmly shut in preparation, but there is just silence. You're starting to grow concerned that something has happened or you said some of that out loud and open one eye a fraction to take a peek, but you see that Quinn's focus isn't on you but the stage below.

Opening your eyes fully you follow Quinn's gaze to see a tall blonde sat with Brad at the piano. Sound, notes, a melody, eventually permeated your ears and brain and you realised they were playing a duet.

"I didn't know Brittany could play the piano."

You see Quinn furrow her brow at your comment, her gaze still fixed on the stage.

"Neither did I."

The sound of a deep breath being taken beside you draws your attention and your gaze meets that of the other girl's.

"What do you want Rachel?"

Her arms are crossed in front of her and the question is spoken in a low, quiet tone so as to not draw attention and disturb the pair on stage.

"I want a lot of things Quinn but I thought my singing to you expressed what I want quite well and from your response I thought it was mutual."

Quinn turns back to face the stage and you watch as she closes her eyes and raises a hand from her crossed arms to her face, closing her hand into a fist as she presses the backs of her fingers and knuckles to her face and mouth, you know this move, this is Quinn shutting off, don't let her.

"Correction I know these feelings are mutual Quinn, I may be naïve but I'm not that naïve."

There's the slightest upwards jerk at the corner of Quinn's mouth and the tiny action helps strengthen your resolve as you press on.

"I know this is complicated, well it is and it isn't, and it seems impossible but it's really not and going back to how things were isn't really an option here so can't we both just be honest and acknowledge that we like each other and work from there?"

The blonde remains unmoved and impassive, her eyes still closed, and it's exasperating. You suddenly feel drained and exhausted, the effort of chasing after Quinn, the stress of the last few weeks it just hits you, but you're Rachel Berry and you don't give up.

"Quinn I get that this isn't easy but it could be and I'm not going away I just-"

"What up Bs!"

The exclamation causes both of you to jump and back more into the shadows to keep yourselves concealed, you're still able to just see the stage and as you look down you see Santana emerge and approach Brittany and Brad.

You watch as Brittany jumps up excited and skips across the stage to envelope the Latina in a tight hug. Confusion clouds the blondes face as they part.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"It's just Spanish. I mean seriously what can Mr Schue teach me, he barely knows his holas from his honchos. Plus you asked me to come."

"Oh yeah." Brittany giggles and you see Santana's face soften, as they clasp their hands together and swing them gently back and forth in the space between them.

"So what's this about?"

"I know you won't sing a song with me in Glee, but I thought maybe you'd sing one with me now, just the two of us?"

"Always Britt Britt."

Brittany is bouncing on the balls of her feet as Santana reaches a hand up to the other girl's cheek and pulls her down into a chaste kiss.

"Brad and I have just been practicing. You'll know it once you hear it just pick it up."

The tall blonde skips back to sit at the piano with Brad and with a nod they being to play a staccato tune and Brittany's voice fills the auditorium. It doesn't take long for Santana's voice to join in and as they blend together for the chorus you admit that they sound pretty amazing together and if you weren't aware of the Latina's fear of performing a duet with Brittany in public you'd suggest it for a future set list.

You chance a glance across to Quinn to share your opinion on their performance to find her staring at you, and you can't stop the knowing smile that spreads across your face. There's some parallel and similarity between the two girls on stage and the two of you, it's Santana and Quinn's fear that is holding them back, stopping them from following their hearts.

You feel the fingers of Quinn's hand brush against your palm and as they work their way to entwine with yours you give the other girl's hand a gentle squeeze. Subconsciously you register Brittany moving from behind the piano towards Santana and you catch the movement of their dancing together across the stage out the corner of your eye as you pull on Quinn's hand and bring the two of you face to face.

Your free hand moves up to cup the other girl's cheek and as your thumb runs over soft skin, Quinn leans into your touch, ducking her head until eventually your foreheads are pressed together. Encouraged by the intimacy of the action you let your fingertips flex and reach around to find the soft hairs towards Quinn's hairline at the back of her neck, knowing that scratching at them is a weak spot for the blonde. It's difficult to focus with the proximity but you catch the blonde's eyelids fluttering closed as you stroke through the fine strands and she nuzzles further against your hand.

At the sound of a contended hum you feel your heart swell and pulse pick up, the air between you is increasingly electrifying as you become fixated on the lips that are so close that as you wet your own dry lips you feel tingles through the tip of your tongue at the near contact. It only takes a little pull and a tilt of your head and your lips connect, just for a brief second as Quinn draws back.

"Rach-."

You don't want to talk, you don't want to reason or argue about this, you don't want to be ignored any longer, so your response is to take advantage of Quinn's parted lips, and reconnect yours around her bottom lip. This time it sparks a mutual slow exploration and as your lips move together you relish in the softness and tingle that spreads throughout your body. Your fingers thread more tightly into blonde hair, pulling the two of you closer together as hands and arms slide around your waist and moans are swallowed into open mouths.

The feeling of light headedness means you reluctantly have to pull apart but you're quick to bring your foreheads back together, not wanting to lose this closeness and intimacy yet.

"Rach."

"Yes."

"Look at me."

You're hesitant to move, to lose something that feels so indescribably right and mind-blowing and hasn't been given a fair chance. Slowly you open your eyes to meet bright hazel ones.

"I like you."

The smile that spreads across your face is unrestrained and wild.

"I like you too Quinn."

It's the only response you can manage to articulate right now and Quinn breaks out in a matching broad smile before she brings your lips back together and you just revel in the words, in the feelings you have at their being spoken, the now empty stage and its events forgotten for the time being.

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><p><strong>AN2**: _As always comments and reviews are magical._

_The song I had in mind for Brittany and Santana to be singing was 'parachute' hence the title of this chapter. I know it's a song that has been used quite a lot in various fics but it does just hit the right notes, as it were. I don't know how well people will be acquainted with it but I know and love this song through the cover version Cheryl Cole did, and that is what I was listening to when this idea came to me. Actually this originally started out as a Brittana fic which evolved but the basic idea has remained. Anyway, my point (there is one I promise) I have such a strong visual in my brain for this and it's difficult to put it in words, the Cheryl Cole version has a sort of tangoesque feel to it, go youtube it and watch the music video (I love the choreography in her videos) and I kind of see Brittany and Santana using hints of that. Also in her version towards the end when she's singing the 'I won't fall out of love' bits, it's kind of done in a round and harmonised which I like and would work well in my scenario of two people singing it. Hopefully that made some kind of sense and just gave a sneak peek into my brains inner workings._


	3. I touch myself

**A/N:** _So yeah I had this idea and it ended up in M rating territory, so be warned the rating of this has now changed to M. It's all Quinn's POV._

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine, I'm just having fun with these lovely Glee characters and acknowledge the title of this chapter comes from the classic 'I touch myself' by divinyls.

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><p><strong>I touch myself<strong>

You shouldn't be doing this.

That is the thought that keeps running through your head as you lay in bed. Rachel Berry is dangerous, every millimetre and inch that she gains into your life creates further impulsivity and imbalance, traits that aren't you. They aren't you because they breed fear, and you don't do fear. You create fear, you rule by fear, you do not feel it. But Rachel . . . Rachel has got you all kinds of scared. It lingers and hangs over you like an executioner, like a guillotine, because you're just waiting. Waiting for people to notice, to point and stare and reject you, rejection, that's what you're scared of most.

You shouldn't be doing this.

What is really frustrating is the fear of what other people think isn't the only and worst fear any more. It used to be. The thought of disappointing people, of not being what they thought you should be, what they wanted you to be, that used to drive you to be better, be perfect. But now . . . now the overriding fear is that you're waiting for her to reject you. To say _this_ isn't worth the effort, that she can't stay hidden in the shadows, in the public ambiguity you've created around the two of you so you can have her that little bit closer but still try and keep the two of you safe from every one, that your efforts aren't enough, aren't quick enough, that _you_ are not enough.

You're trying though. God are you trying, because you know people are talking. Every time the two of you sit together at lunch you can sense their eyes and whispers, every hug in the hallway brings a quizzical look. But every day you care that little bit less because you want this _so_ much, and that's another thing that scares you.

God, has there ever been a time when you weren't scared, when there wasn't the constant threat of your world turning upside down and things just being normal. You can feel yourself sneer at the thought because as much as you try and project and create this illusion of normal it's not you, it's always been just a perception, an act. It's like there's an inside you and an outside you and so how do you know which is normal? The outside you acts how people expect, and it feels so unreal and disconnected from everything. It's calculations, thinking through the repercussions and making precise decisions, finding ways to bend and please people, to keep them at the necessary distance. Then you keep having these moments with Rachel and inside everything feels so real and free, even when the two of you are just sat at the Berry's dining table doing your homework you've never felt so in a place and moment. But it's all so exposed and vulnerable, it's like a tidal wave, once the reality of these moments starts it gains momentum and swells and you're precariously placed at the top waiting to crash or be propelled forwards, inside outside and closer, always wanting to be closer to her.

Trying to meet the expectations of others might not be normal but neither is throwing yourself into a situation that you can't quite comprehend and contain. Regardless of how amazingly real and wonderful it is you can't quite let go. No matter how unreal or shaky your popularity, your family, your control, it's safe, you understand and know how to get it, how it works. What you can't quite understand is this feeling, this desire to want. To want someone in this way, a girl no less, something that just brings further conflict to the delicate balance of demands and expectations you are trying to juggle.

You shouldn't be doing this.

As if you hadn't already committed your share of sin in your short life, you can't even contain your desires, show some self-control. Instead you're laying here in bed debating this because you couldn't stop thinking about Rachel. She's a constant distraction. You'll be watching a film and little things like the weight of her head on your shoulder and scent of her hair will catch your attention. At lunchtime you'll become entranced by the movement of her jaw and throat as she eats, during Glee you'll close your eyes and become lost in her voice, and not just when she sings but the passion with which she'll argue with Mr Schue, her voice full of indignation and resolve.

You'd been so careful, been so in control of it all, but now you have all these stupid little impulses and you've started giving into them. Like the look of surprise on her face the other week when you hugged her goodbye after she'd walked you to your car. She caught you staring at her while you were sat together in AP English and her questioning look was so cute you just couldn't resist reaching over and caressing her cheek before tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear, and the other day she surprised you at your locker with this book you've been after for ages and it must have cost her a fortune but you were so overwhelm you kissed her on the cheek in the middle of the hallway in front of everyone.

There are so many things and it's consuming, it feels like the more time you spend together the more she encompasses and the less energy you have to care. Less energy to care about what other people think and say, about what they expect, about further disappointment and rejection, you just do what makes you happy, you just want to make her happy.

She's ruined you.

Since that moment in the auditorium you've been trying, small steps, scared in some ways of how much you want and need more. How you now daydream about a college near New York, corsages at prom, waking up in the morning with Rachel beside you. Then there's other thoughts and daydreams, about long toned legs, cascades of chocolate hair spread on a pillow, smooth skin and teeth and nails, soft lips and a hot wet tongue.

Those thoughts have you groaning in frustration. You want to simultaneously stop those thoughts and not stop them, because this feeling, this itch, is new and not new at the same time. It's not that you've never done this before, there was the time during your pregnancy, your hormones were all over the place and you couldn't take it, it was a functional action and it didn't take much, but this . . . this is driven by so much more. This burning and need that is driving you to this is new, you've never really thought and fantasised about anyone in this way and now these visions of animal sweaters on your bedroom floor, the feel of perfect cheeks in your hands, of an arching back and pitch perfect moans. She's so stuck and ingrained in your brain that you didn't even try to stop it when your hand travelled down your stomach and dipped inside your shorts a few minutes ago before you launched into this internal debate. You didn't try to suppress the gasp that followed when you discovered how wet you were, the way your back arched off your bed as your finger first circled your clit.

You shouldn't be doing this.

It's like a background mantra with every circle of your finger, because this isn't what good Christian girls do, but your heart is thumping in your chest and blood pounding in your ears. Your brain is consumed with Rachel and instead of providing you with any will power, any self-control, it's using all its energy to piece together every moment and sensory experience you've had with the other girl. Piecing it all together to give you a vivid image and fantasy about what it would be like, the weight of her body over yours, the feel of lips against your neck, a hand running under your shirt to cup a breast, squeezing it lightly before teasing and pinching a nipple. Your own free hand acts out the image, and it feels alien as you pinch a painfully erect peak, a moan catching in your throat at the sensation, at the feeling that this is Rachel's hand doing these things.

Rachel's hand is massaging your breast, occasionally pinching and twisting your nipple, in a similar pattern to the circular motions and rhythmic flicks on your clit. You've not seen each other fully naked yet but you know in your mind how well you'd fit together, how well you move together, and that knowledge along with the thought of Rachel's naked body pressed against yours has everything speeding up. In your imagination Rachel's lips move up your neck and nip at your earlobe. She's obsessed with the little piece of flesh after discovering the effect toying with it has on you, and she takes advantage of every opportunity the two of you are alone to test your resolve. You've never simultaneously been thankful and cursed Coach Sylvester so much for her restrictive dress-code that keeps you from obstructing that bit of flesh. Rachel had taken full advantage after one Cheerio's practice, pulling you into an empty classroom as you made your way fresh from the locker room and crushed your lips together. You're gasping for breath as that talented mouth moves along your jaw before teeth and lips attach themselves, teasing and suckling on your earlobe. A lightness in your head and limbs causes you to stumble a half step back and lean against the desk behind you. Rachel's hand grasp and squeeze your hips in an effort to steady and support you but all the touch does it set your body further on fire. A sharp tug and you can feel her lips and breath ghost words across your ear, words that have you struggling for air again.

You can hear them now inside your head and each whispered expression drives you further out of control and your head thrashing side to side on your pillow. You're so close now and all you want is for those lips to find their way to yours, to swallow the inevitable moans and screams you won't be able to contain. Biting your lip and turning your head into the pillow is all you can do as your orgasm hits, the head rush and tension throughout your body has you shaking under your own hands.

The hand in your shorts keeps circling, drawing everything out as you slowly feel the tension dissipate and a relaxed contentment wash over you. In your mind Rachel's lips haven't stopped as they lightly work back along your jaw and pepper along your neck before you're met with clear brown eyes and the most beautiful smile you've ever seen. She nudges and strokes her nose against yours and the thought and feeling makes you smile sleepily as you turn onto your side. Pulling the blanket over you, you are sure you can feel an arm tightening around your waist before sleep encompasses you.

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><p><strong>AN2:** _Comments, reviews and general words of feedback and thoughts are welcomed with parades and hugs : -)_


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